Night Heists and Fireflies
by Flame Within Ice
Summary: Bones and Booth are married and enjoying the summer at their new cottage, when a murderer known only as the Night Killer constructs a plot to kill Angela--and frame Bones and Booth as her killer!
1. Chapter 1: The First Heist

Chapter One: The First Heist

The man's hands were illuminated in the white glow of his computer. His face was shrouded in darkness, and he tapped a button on the keyboard of the compute, bringing up a file.

"Amazing what you can get for tapping into police files," the man whispered softly to himself, scanning the contents of the file until he saw the name he was looking for. The file looked something like this:

Name: Roger Wilkinson

Age: 35

Record: Found working for a notorious murderer, unknown. Roger, after several days in custody, released useful information on said murderer. Police now have a good lead on the aptly named "Night Killer".—

That was all the man needed. He closed the computer down and in a matter of seconds was pulling a large black briefcase from the floor onto his lap.

It clicked open to reveal a wide assortment of weapons. Selecting only what he would need, the man hid the briefcase behind a secret panel in the wall and walked out to a Plumbers United van idling at the curb of his house. Upon opening the door of the van, the plumbing van was not filled with supplies for fixing leaking pipes, however, it was filled with state-of-the-art electronic equipment and a group of men cloaked in black.

The first man handed over a Map Quest instruction sheet to the van's driver.

Van, equipment, and men were silently driven from the quiet little neighborhood. The first man in the van smiled to himself. He so loved being a mouse just out of reach of the cat, tantalizingly in reach, then, as the lethal claws reached out to kill—gone. That was how the Night Killer operated.


	2. Chapter 2: The Fate of Roger Wilkinson

Chapter Two: The Fate of Roger Wilkinson

Brennan slid out of bed and walked into the kitchen, where Booth sat at the marble counter, silently willing his coffee to cook faster.

"Hey honey," Brennan said as she helped herself to some toast. Booth grunted his aknowledgement and continued his stare-down of the coffee maker. Sadly, it seemed that the inanimate coffee maker was winning.

Their little summer cottage was set back from the main road, along a winding gravel path. Surrounding it were thick woods, with numerous creeks and swamps traversing all through it. As Brennan and Booth were taking their dayly walk along the nearest creek, Brennan noticed something in the water. A blackened shape was floating on the serene blue surface. Her eyes widened as she recognized what it was.

"Booth! Look! In the water!" she choked. Booth peered at the black shape. Immediately a gasp of horror forced its way out of his mouth. Both of them had recognized that the blackened lump was a human skeleton, the bones charred by fire.

The body was laid out on a lab table at their normal workplace. It was a Sunday, so the crew was just rushing in, Angela and Sweets in the lead. They milled about the body, examining it even as they pulled protective gloves on. Scraping some charred, but still intact. skin, off the body, Brennan ran a DNA test.

"It says here that this person is...Roger Wilkinson...hey, wasn't he just released after giving information to the police on the Night Killer?" Brennan said. Angela was examining the ribcage and chest cavity with interest.

"The fire wasn't the thing that killed him. Look," Angela pointed out a tiny bullet with a barbed tip imbedded deeply in a bone.

"I've never seen a bullet that small. And look at that barbed tip!" Booth exclaimed. Everyone rushed to get a look at the newest discovery, gasping over the bullet's size, and puzzling over what kind of gun would fire a barbed bullet. In all the commotion, Sweets pulled Brennan aside for a moment to look at a police file he had drawn up on the computer.

Name: unknown  
Nickname: Night Killer  
Age:unknown  
Record: eccentric murderer, killing by night only. No whereabouts known. Source tell us that the Night Killer enjoys making experimental weapons. Our source would not give us any more information on his whereabouts, age, or name, saying, "He will find me, he will find me, he will find me and hunt me down and not stop until I am dead..."

Sweets looked at Brennan with a serious face.

"The only source the police have gotten for the Night Killer was Roger Wilkinson. It looks like the poor guy was right about what he said about the Night Killer finding him," he whispered. Brennan looked sadly at the line that read "enjoys making experimental weapons..." It appeared that the tiny bullet with the barbed tip belonged to the most notorious murderer ever. The Night Killer.


	3. Chapter 3: The Hunt is On

Chapter Three: The Hunt is On

Far out in a lonely small town, three men lounged on a ratty sofa in the dingy apartment of the Night Killer. The aforementioned person was pacing up and down in front of the three men, talking.

"Now that they know who killed Roger, we need to move. Polaris should be back any time now...ah, here he is! Polaris!" the Night Killer welcomed a man in a black cape coming through the back door, which had a rather expensive-looking lock hanging open, compared to the door's rotten frame. Polaris came in and spoke quickly. The Night Killer was not a patient man.

"Boss, I eavesdropped on them through an air vent in the Jeffersonian. There's a woman, Dr. Temperance Brennan, and a man, Booth-I didn't catch his first name-who is married to her," Polaris stated. The Night Killer narrowed his eyes.

"Their house, is it that cottage we saw nearby?" he queried. Polaris nodded. The Night Killer whirled around to face the three lounging men.

"Rodda, Bane," he acknowledged two of the men, and to the third he whispered, "Sarl, the Hunt," All three of the men took out a couple contacts. The Night Killer slipped in his own pair of contacts, a glowing yellow color. Then he withdrew from his coat five flasks filled with grey liquid.

"My latest experiment," he whispered fondly. Tossing one to each of the four gathered men-Polaris, Rodda, Bane, and Sarl-they drank the potions. With a slight golden shimmer, the humans were gone, and with a slash of grey and the cocking of guns, the Night Killer and his men left the dingy apartment.

"Tonight," spake the Night Killer in a harsh bark of a voice, yellow contacts glowing, "I shall be called Sirius,"

Brennan and Booth woke to an eerie sound.

"What's that?" Brennan asked, breath catching in her throat. Booth immediately grabbed her by the arm. Far out on the road, there was the hiss of a car approaching, and the howling of wolves.

"Wolves. And they're coming in a car." Booth answered her, then he was grabbing his wallet from the bedside table, and his car keys from the door hook, and then he and Brennan were in the car, on the road, the eerie wolf howls coming from the car directly behind them. To Brennan's surprise, one spoke in a decidedly human voice to them out of the window.

"The Hunt is on!" said Sirius.


	4. Chapter 4: Stranded

Chapter Four: Stranded

Booth twisted the steering wheel completely to the right as they screeched around a corner. Brennan was looking back at Sirius and his wolf pack. Booth gritted his teeth.

"I'd rather not want to see how fast I can take this speed bump up ahead..."he muttered. Sure enough, there was a rather large BUMP! Brennan was tossed against her seat restraint, knocking the wind out of her.

"That nearly flipped the car!" she exclaimed. All of a sudden there was a wild screeching of brakes and the sounds of metal scrunching up. Looking back, Brennan saw the wolf pack get out of the destroyed wreckage of the car and shake their fur.

"We haven't escaped yet, Booth!" Brennan said nervously. The wolf pack headed toward the retreating car at a fast run. With superwolf speed, the pack was soon level with Booth's car.

"Pull over, and no one gets hurt...yet!" Sirius snarled. Booth refused.

"So be it," the wolf-human growled. Brennan let out a yell as Sirius leaped onto the car, claws digging into the metal with a horrid screeching sound. A window shattered, and Booth was flecked with pinpoints of red blood as the glass scratched his face. Sirius clung doggedly-in the literal sense of the word-to the car as Booth gripped the steering wheel and went into a series of driving that shouldn't be seen outside of a grounded air show. As the car spun in a fast, tight circle, Sirius poked his nose in through the driver's window. From his fur, the wolf pulled a tiny gun.

"Prepare to die!" he leered. The grimy claw scrabbled to the trigger, and attempted to squeeze it. There was a bang, a scream, and then Booth blacked out as the ground beneath vanished and a huge wolf crashed against the side of his head.

No one saw the car go tumbling off the cliff that night, except the wolves standing guard by a pile of something by a large rock that appeared to be part of a bumper and a tire.

Booth came to in pain. Looking around, he could see no wolf. Sirius had left them for dead. Booth looked grimly at the lower half of his body, which was trapped beneath the wreckage of the car. Daring to look beside him, he was relieved to see Brennan alive, but bleeding from a bullet hole on her arm.

He struggled out from under the car. Wincing, Booth stood up. His legs had long scratches running all the way down them. They were stranded in a forest at the bottom of a cliff and both of them were injured.

Yet the sun still rose cheerily in the morning.


	5. Chapter 5: Out in the Wilderness

Chapter Five: Out in the Wilderness

Brennan moaned softly. Even though Booth had carefully treated the gun wound with a first aid kit and removed the bullet with its barbed tip, there was not much to do for infection. They couldn't climb up the vertical cliff to the road, seeing as you can't safely rock climb with an injured arm and hurt legs, so they wandered deep into the forest.

The only sound was the crunch of leaves, birdcall, and rustlings of some four-legged creature. Brennan peered through the trees, then gave a shout of surprise.

"Booth! There's a house up ahead!" she cried. To call the dwelling a house would have been an insult to respectable log cabins. It was more of a shack made from tall sticks and a mixture of leaves and mud for a roof. And out front was a woman, with matted brown hair that stuck out around her head in a frenzied bush. She wore animal hides for clothes, and she was cooking something in a hardened mud pot over a fire. As Brennan and Booth approached her, she glanced up, startled. Then she crouched on all fours and growled, a nervous sound. Booth took it to mean, "Who are you?" and spoke.

"I am Booth, and this is my wife, Brennan," Booth explained. The woman relaxed, and sat back on her legs. "Kirrrr," she said, pointing to herself. Kir(with a trilled "r"), gestured to their injuries and queried,

"Keva grrr shooom kaka nrrrr?" Booth could only guess at what it meant, but he thought it was probably something like "Bad thing happen to you?". Knowing that Kir could obviously understand English, but not speak it, he continued.

"Have you seen any big wolves around here? They are human-like, and speak English..." Booth trailed off as the Kir's eyes glazed over, attempting to recall something.

"Keva bad!" she whispered, "Keva go gulp gulp then he howl, this:" and Kir mimed this Keva person drinking something and then she crouched on all fours and made a silent howl.

"Keva bad bad! Keva killllll!" she moaned. Booth finally understood.

"You mean the Night Killer's name is Keva? And he made a drink that turned him into a wolf? Is that it?" he said, shocked. Kir screwed up her face in concentration, then she looked delightfully surprised and grinned.

"It came back! I can speak again!" Kir laughed with joy.

"Keva, that's his name. He was my brother, but long time ago, he turned...strange. He started coming here late at night, saying he had interacted with the clifftop tribe and managed to become a scientist. That's when he started his experiments. The first was a gun, a tiny thing that had bullets with barbed tips. He said it was for my protection! Oh, why didn't I see what he was doing!" Kir wailed. She steadied herself, then managed to take a deep breath and continued.

"Keva then started being like the night, sleeping during the day, in a deep trance...I yelled his name, but he did not wake, too deep sleep was he in. Then he left...gone, as...Kevin Smith...I do not know what his name is now, he changes it every night to keep police off his trail, but when he is undercover he is always Kevin Smith. Be warned, Booth and Brennan...he is a cunning fox! He may try to lead the crimes to you. Think about it. If you hold a position of power, then you have contacts, and couldn't he kill the contacts you don't get along with, and place things in a trail leading straight to you? I think you should stay here several nights, to rest, before I show you the back way out," Kir shivered, even in the hot noon sun. And Booth and Brennan shivered as well. Who would the Keva kill now that he might be laying a trail. And it would be awfully convenient if he and Brennan went missing for a few days, injured, but that fact unknown to everyone above. It was a perfect trap.


	6. Chapter 6: The Second Heist

Chapter Six: The Second Heist

Sirius led his wolf pack back to his laboratory, a hidden underground room.

"Quick, now, we must carry out the next piece of my plan. The cell mutation mixture will wear off soon, so we can work with our hands…" Sirius padded over to a long table where piles of paper and diagrams were laid out. A couple seconds later, his wolf body began to break up. First his head was human, then his torso, and then his lower body. He had even come back with clothes on, much to the surprise of his minions. Sirius winked at them.

"My secret. Now change into respectable clothes. We're going to operate in the day today!" Sirius grinned evilly.

A couple hours later, Sirius met with the rest of his pack, and explained how the plan was going to work. He was carrying some papers in a file marked TOP SECRET: PROPERTY OF—but the rest was hidden by his arm. Sirius was in a black suit and black pants, with a striped black-and-white tie. The others were dressed similarly, and all were looking up at Sirius very expectantly.

"My name is Roger Baker. I am 31, and am friends with someone at the Jeffersonian, who called me this morning when she discovered something VERY interesting on Booth's desk at work," Sirius smiled and patted the folder. The other men exchanged glances with each other, grinning. They knew where this was headed.

"I have requested a meeting with the police chief," Sirius continued, "and I wish to bring some friends of mine to speak about this interesting piece of information." Sirius, or Roger, gestured at the other men when he said "friends". The other men were now grinning like madmen and rubbing their hands together gleefully. Now came the devious part, the part that would assure them no more trouble from the police, if they could pull it off.

Police Chief Fred Arnold was sitting in his meeting room, waiting patiently for the group of people who had scheduled a meeting. He was expecting some boring information on a supposed robbery suspect, not some highly useful information on the Night Killer.

Looking up, he straightened his tie and checked his red hair to make sure it was flattened and not sticking up anywhere. He adjusted his badge and smoothed his uniform as the door to the meeting hall opened, and a man with dark black hair and glasses poked his head in.

"Mr. Arnold, sir?" He asked timidly. Chief Arnold raised an eyebrow expectantly. The man came fully in through the door, and shifted a folder between his hands nervously. The man was short and dumpy, with a little too much skin hanging out on either side of his body, small, tight brown shoes, and a particularly painful-looking crop of acne all over his face.

"I-I'm Roger Baker, sir. These are my friends I told you about, Mr. Arnold," The man stammered. Chief Arnold waved them in with his hand. Roger shuffled awkwardly over to a chair and flopped into it, striped tie shifting so that it went diagonally over his chest. Chief Arnold stifled a chuckle with a cough, and leaned over the meeting table with an expectant look on his face.

Roger slowly cleared his throat. The poor man was sweating profusely as he passed over the folder of papers. The first thing that caught Chief Arnold's eyes was the name printed in large block letters on the tab of the folder: TOP SECRET: PROPERTY OF DR. TEMPERANCE BRENNAN. Chief Arnold raised an eyebrow at Roger. He cleared his throat again nervously and spoke.

"Mr. Arnold, this morning my friend at the Jeffersonian, Angela I believe her name was, called me this morning and told me that she had found something very important. Something to do with the Night Killer, she said," Roger continued, straightening his tie and clearing his throat yet again. Chief Arnold forgot everything else he had been thinking and leaned forward across the table, almost touching noses with Roger. Roger drew back slightly, and cleared his throat again. Chief Arnold decided that no matter how important this information on the Night Killer was, he could still have a little fun while listening to this guy Roger Baker. He decided to count how many times Roger cleared his throat. As he though this, there came another throat-clearing noise from Roger. Five now.

"Mr. Arnold, sir, if you could open the folder, please, I can't explain, you have to read it for yourself…it's just too…horrifying…" Roger dabbed at the corner of his eyes and cleared his throat. Six. Chief Arnold sighed and opened the folder. His sigh abruptly stopped and was replaced by a gasp. There, right on top of some diagrams of air vents and subway routes, was a plan to kill Angela, the very friend of whom Roger had spoken. Chief Arnold looked up in horror. Roger was watching his expression, and, just as Chief Arnold had suspected, Roger cleared his throat again. Seven.

"You know," Roger gulped, choosing his words carefully, as if he might stumble over them and forget what he was doing, and cleared his throat again. Eight. "You-You know…Dr. Booth and Dr. Brennan have been missing since last night."


	7. Chapter 7: Locked In

Chapter Seven: Locked In

Brennan trudged ahead.

"We're almost at the road, Booth!" She called back to Booth, who was about 100 yards behind her. Booth groaned.

"Shower...Food...Hospital...Sleep..." He moaned quite pathetically. Brennan rolled her eyes at Booth as he struggled feebly the last few paces to the road. Brennan cocked her head to one side, listening. Sirens filled the air, coming closer.

"Thank goodness, the police are coming!" Brennan sighed with relief. The police car, complete with wailing sirens, was speeding over the hilltop, racing toward them with amazing speed.

"They're in an awful hurry to get here..." Booth commented. Brennan froze. She saw the face of Angela inside the police car as it came closer, tears streaming from her eyes as she looked at Booth with an expression of horror on her face. The police car flashed by, then put on the brakes and whirled around with surprising agility. The guy behind the wheel could have been a stuntman.

"Booth, remember Kir's warning?" Brennan breathed as the police car came back, slower this time. Booth was staring at it with a very disgusted expression on his face. Without a moment's notice, he vanished from her side so fast Brennan whirled around in disbelief at his speed. Since when did Booth learn to run that fast? _Since the Night Killer set us up,_ Brennan thought to herself as she ran after him into the trees, almost at the same speed.

She found Booth deep in the woods, panting for breath and partway up a very tall and leafy tree. For a moment she froze, then asked nervously,

"Is that you or a dog up there, Booth?" she asked at Booth's shoe, which was all she could presently see of him. Booth poked his head into sight, and frantically beckoned her up the tree. Brennan groaned and began to climb.

"Does...it...have...to...be...so...darn..._tall?!_" Brennan panted as she struggled from limb to limb, inching her way up the trunk. Booth looked out of the valley at something only he could see and said,

"Will you go faster if I tell you that the policeman and Angela are scanning the forest with flashlights and they've brought a search helicopter in?" he asked, sounding quite polite in the process. In a surprisingly short time, Brennan was seated next to Booth as they clung to the leeward side of the incredibly fat tree, hidden from view by thousands of very bushy, thick leaves. Also in a surprisingly short time, they heard two people crunching through the underbrush. Within moments they heard the roar of the search helicopter, and they flattened themselves against the tree trunk. The beam filtered through the leaves, and they closed their eyes tight as they felt it waver to the right and to the left of them, but, since it didn't expose anything that identified them as humans, the beam passed over them and the helicopter moved on, growing fainter and fainter, until finally it faded into the distance, as did the crunching of people through the underbrush.

"I'm not...moving...from this tree...for a long...long...time..." Brennan whispered, her face pale and colorless. Booth nudged her.

"Look up and you'll see why I'm leaving," Booth replied. Brennan, annoyed, looked up. About twenty giant fruit bats looked back at her. Brennan opened her mouth, about to scream. Booth quickly gave her another nudge and pointed downward. Brennan needed not one more thing to get her down that tree. Booth nimbly followed, and the two quietly crept through the forest. Presently they came to a stream, and Booth washed the mud and dirt and blood off of his face and picked the leaves, sticks, and twigs out of his hair, and straightened his clothes as best as he good, and they walked on.

They came to the road again, and cautiously checking for any cars, police or otherwise, they slipped across it and walked up to an old, beaten-down shack. The lock on the door, however, suggested that the inside was not as beaten-down as the outside. Booth kicked the old, rotten door. The wood splintered, but instead of breaking through as his foot should have, the foot came through a thin layer of wood and landed against something hard with a metallic _thud!_ Booth stared at the door in disbelief.

"They do not have a steel door. How can someone who owns a dump like _this_," he said, wildly gesturing at the shack, "own a steel door and a lock like that?! How?!" he sighed, and pounded at the door hopelessly. To his great surprise, it creaked open. Some fool had left it unlocked when they left the building.

Cautiously, Brennan and Booth crept into the room beyond the door, expecting an alarm to go off at any second. But nothing happened. Straightening up, they looked around the room, and noted with disbelief that the furniture was just as ratty and dumpy as the building itself. Booth was not interested in any of this. He was more interested in the open trapdoor in the floor, which was flooded with a very hi-tech light coming from within.

Brennan and Booth peered down into the trapdoor, and cringed when they heard a very familiar voice.

"...you FOOL! You left it unlocked?! Anyone could have just walked right in!" It was the voice of Sirius, or, as they had found out, Keva, or Kevin Smith. There was a pause and a low mumble from someone who sounded very frightened.

"WHAT??!!! You left the trapdoor open too?!! I don't BELIEVE this!" Keva shouted at the other person, and footsteps stormed over to the trapdoor. Brennan and Booth quickly withdrew their heads from view and held their breaths as they hid behind a couch, listening to Keva clanking up the ladder to the trapdoor. Keva emerged from the trapdoor opening and stormed over to the door, winding a knob and locking into place numerous small metal bars, which slid into their places with a little _click_ of finality.

Keva stormed back over to the trapdoor, disappeared down the ladder, and slammed the hatch closed behind him, which also locked with a little _click_!

Brennan and Booth looked at each other. That door and trapdoor had sounded very final. They were locked in with the Night Killer and his minions. Granted, the Night Killer and his minions were down the trapdoor arguing amongst themselves, but they couldn't stay down there forever.


	8. Chapter 8: A Way Out?

Chapter Eight: A Way Out?

Brennan and Booth looked around the shack for a better hiding place, and finally discovered a small hole (actually it was more of a large hole, but a small large hole, if that makes any sense atall...) in the ceiling. The only problem was how to get to it. Finally Brennan noticed that the board walls of the shanty had nice, large cracks between them. Luckily, the hole in the ceiling was in a corner, and by quietly climbing the wall (and cringing at every creak), they slipped silently through the hole into the ceiling. Lying flat on their stomachs, Brennan and Booth nervously waited. Finally Booth noticed that the other side of the ceiling had been rebuilt, and wasn't half as rotten, plus there was some furniture over there, as if the place was a makeshift attic. The furniture was more springs and cloth and rotten wood, and it was extremely dusty. Brennan guessed that the ceiling here had only been rebuilt because the Night Killer didn't want several tons of random junk crashing down on his head. Settling nervously into a sagging couch, Brennan waited for something to happen.

And something did, in fact, happen. The Night Killer's men opened the trapdoor again to get something that was hidden in a couch. Brennan knew this because there came a creak, a groan, a crack, a crash, and a sudden burst of colorful language, enough to make a rainbow. There was a rustling of papers, and one of the men called down the trapdoor to someone, probably the Night Killer. Sure enough, Brennan and booth heard his voice, and the rest of his men came up the ladder.

"So, we can get going to follow "Agent Booth's" plans?" A man asked. There was a pause, probably the Night Killer nodding, and his minions followed him to the door, which he unlocked and walked through. His minions followed him. The Night Killer paused, turned around and said to the last minion,

"Be sure you lock the door this time," he said coldly. The minion mumbled something, then walked out the door, shut it behind him, and the little clicks of locking mechanisms sounded almost cheerful. Brennan turned to Booth and pointed down, through the ceilng.

"I don't recall the trapdoor ever being locked before they left, do you?" Brennan asked. Booth shook his head, excited.

Somehow their luck had held. They had managed to get up a tree and hide from a search helicopter, even with a hurt arm and scratched-up limbs. They had escaped notice of the Night Killer and his minions. AND they could have found a way out.


	9. Chapter 9: The Final Chapter

**INCOMING!!!! this story is going to be finished very soon, I promise you!**

THE LAST CHAPTER

Brennan and Booth crept through the open trapdoor and emerged into a laboratory. Booth stopped as they passed a table with an open file on it. The file read: _Eliminate Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan._ Brennan took one glance at it, grabbed Booth with her good arm, and started running through the laboratory. There was a door out. It was unlocked, and it led out into the fresh air. The fresh air was filled with cop sirens. Booth and Brennan's delighted smiles faded.

"Officer, I think you need to come look at this," Brennan said, as a policeman approached with two pairs of handcuffs.

"I'm looking at the Night Killer right now. Agent Booth, you are under arrest." The officer took another step. Booth made a beeline for the lab, knowing fully well that the officer would follow him. Brennan ran after them, as did some more officers.

Brennan stepped into the lab and found a scene of chaos. The officer had handcuffs on someone who could only be mistaken as Agent Booth by someone with extremely poor eyesight. This person was Kevin Smith, who had come back to grab a few things he needed from the lab to complete their last heist, but luckily, the police officer had met him coming in.

"Sorry, Agent Booth. So sorry. I...I didn't think that...I'm so sorry, again, Agent Booth..." The police officer stammered as he held a furious Kevin Smith at bay in his squad car.

"Why would someone want to kill me?" Angela asked at the hospital, where Brennan and Booth were being treated for their injuries. Booth had a grim look on his face as the nurse attempted to clean the scratches on his legs with antibacterial solution, which stung like fire ants.

"Kevin Smith wanted to kill you to kill us," he explained between spurts of annoyance at the nurse, who pressed doggedly onward in her mission to remove that final 0.01 percent of germs with a different antibacterial solution. Both the previous and current solution promised to remove 99.9 percent of germs. This nurse had no idea what the words _rounding up a number_ meant.

"So Kevin Smith tried to kill me because he wanted to stage you and Brennan as the Night Killer, and therefore have you most likely executed?" Angela concluded. Booth nodded, and yelled something in a higher octave as the nurse tried to get in underneath the slight flaps of skin on his wounds and get rid of the germs there, too.

Brennan stepped in to her summer cottage with Booth, and breathed in a sigh of relief. Now everything could return to---

Brennan's phone rang.

"Hey, Bones?" Angela's voice came through. "We need your expertise in the bones area..."

Brennan sighed.

---well, almost normal, anyway.

**THE END**


End file.
